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118 Till it burned upon his shoulders,

And before him on the upland

He could see the Shining Wigwam

Of the Manito of Wampum,

Of the mightiest of Magicians.

Then once more Cheemaun he patted,

To his birch-canoe said, "Onward!"

And it stirred in all its fibres,

And with one great bound of triumph

Leaped across the water-lilies,

Leaped through tangled flags and rushes,

And upon the beach beyond them

Dry-shod landed Hiawatha.

Straight he took his bow of ash-tree,

One end on the sand he rested,

With his knee he pressed the middle,

Stretched the faithful bow-string tighter,

Took an arrow, jasper-headed,

Shot it at the Shining Wigwam,

Sent it singing as a herald,